Corner
of our office. Top shelf. It’s a mouse pad.
Not
much of a mouse pad, to be honest. If I actually used it as a
mouse pad, I would likely have been fed up with it in under ten
minutes and tossed it. It has a rubbery feel to it. And, there
are some ridges in the design that I can’t imagine a mouse flowing
smoothly over.
But
I didn’t buy it to be a mouse pad.
I
bought it for Figment. You know, Figment. Purple dragon. Imagination
pavilion at Epcot. Figment. Love that little guy.
Figment
is not alone. On display, I have Tinker Bell coffee mugs, Christmas
ornaments, a selection of books, a Coca-Cola serving tray, and
an empty gallon glass bottle that once held the greatest chocolate
milk produced in the world. All of which have no reason to be
on display as knickknacks, except that they’re my knickknacks…
my reasons.
If
you looked around your house, would you find items that you keep
but not for their intended use? A coffee mug that’s from a special
day and the perfect pencil holder might be one example. But I’m
asking for slightly different reasons.
Is
there a point where nostalgia and meaning completely overcome
function and necessity? (I say yes. But, I’m also the guy with
not one but two Mickey and Minnie as a couple wedding figurines
on a shelf. Perhaps consider the source.)
This
isn’t about knickknacks in general though. My wife and I have
plenty of those. Those are all over the place around here.
This
is finding a key ring that refers to something meaningful, so
you put it aside and save it, never a key near it. It’s about
casino chips or coins from other countries, stacked up next to
a framed picture of a trip you took with some friends. It’s a
broken belt from a dryer that you successfully replaced in a “I
can fix that (though I’ve never tried this before)” home improvement
project.
A
few years ago, my wife and I found a box of Hot Wheels and Matchbox
cars. Almost all of them we put aside to bring to the boys later.
But there were a couple that I immediately remembered from my
childhood. Ones that just connected, and I could recall being
on the floor of my bedroom setting things up and playing with
them. (To this day, when using them on an official track for them,
I still don’t know why the rescue hovercraft could never do the
loop. (Maybe I need to find some track and break out the box again
before heading to see the boys. Remind me tomorrow.))
I
suppose there is another line that needs to be brought in to this
conversation, in addition to nostalgia and function. That would
be the concept of collectibles. Coffee mugs that look like coffee
mugs, but let’s face it, no one was ever going to use them for
coffee. It’s more than nostalgia involved when you don’t use these
items. They stay mint in box, if you will, saved for value and
not for memories.
Many
years ago, I worked on an ambulance. Worked a lot of shifts with
my best friend. The Rescue Rangers—ahem, Chip ‘n Dale: Rescue
Rangers—were on television around that time, and we ended
up with the nicknames Chip and Dale. We ended up with nametags
made, and eventually a few stuffed animals appeared.
When
I bought my first car, my Chip nametag was placed on a Chip stuffed
doll I picked up from the local Disney store. He became kind of
a mascot for the car, and stayed inside it.
Today,
as I craft this essay, I have a set of Chip and Dale animals on
one shelf, dressed in their Rescue Ranger gear. On another shelf,
the Chip doll with the nametag still attached. (I suppose I can
be a memory driven, nostalgic fool.)
And
some of this I can explain and defend… not that it needs defending.
Once, we were at Epcot. Terry and I decided to pick up a small
trinket from a gift shop in each of the different countries represented
around the World Showcase. Those items remain a part of the office
collection.
But
it keeps coming back to those darn coffee mugs and the like. I
don’t want to drink coffee from them. I want the memory. They
aren’t necessarily collectibles, they were mass produced and are
not in their original packaging (if there even was an original
packaging). There they are, however. Right where I need them.
Next to Figment mouse pad (and a broken dryer belt).